Dichotomy
by BeltayneWitch
Summary: As much as Fynleigh wishes to be light, there is a darkness within her, threatening to rip her apart. With the help of a family she never knew she wanted, she sets out to discover who she is. Someone else has other plans for her, though, and she aims to find out who it is and exactly what they're after. [Rated T for now. May change later.] *Chapter 4 Now Posted*
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Well, well, what have we got here, boys?"

She tried to ignore the group of men as she passed by them. She hated walking home this way, but it was faster than waiting for the bus, or taking a 'safer route,' as her parents said. She almost laughed at the thought. There were no safe routes in Brixton. There were only dangerous streets and slightly more dangerous alleyways. She adjusted her bag across her shoulders, glad that she carried a messenger bag. They were easier to carry if one had to run.

"Aw…c'mon, love, don't be like that." They were following her now. She could feel their eyes on her back like daggers. She sped up a bit, hoping that being ignored would bore them and they would leave her alone. She could never get so lucky. A rough hand jerked on the strap of her bag, pulling her backwards. She fought to regain her footing as two of the men grabbed her arms and pushed her up against a wall. Her heart beat loudly against her ribcage, and she was sure that her assailants could hear it. She did her best to school her face, to keep the fear and panic out of her eyes. Nothing good ever came from her being afraid.

"Whotcha running from, love?" The pungent smell of beer and body odor filled her nostrils. She pushed down the urge to gag, choosing instead to keep her mouth shut. She stared at the man, committing him to memory just in case the police got involved. He was burly and stout, with thick, greasy blonde hair. His eyes were too close together, and his nose bent at an odd angle, as though it had been broken several times. His teeth were crocked, chipped and yellowed.

"Looks like we got ourselves a quiet one, boys." He sneered. "That's too bad. I do love it when they scream."

The light of the street lamps gleamed off of the blade of a knife as he pulled it out of his waistband. She closed her eyes as he pressed the flat of it against her cheek, the coolness making her feel ill. He slid the blade down her cheek and along her jaw, before pressing the edge against her throat. Her body shook with the effort it took to remain calm. The tenuous grip she held on her composure was slipping and she could feel the cold seeping deep into her, beyond her bones and into her very core. She knew what was coming; she could feel the darker side of herself taking over.

The moment she felt the knife begin to cut through the fabric of her top, she knew it was too late. She smirked as she opened her eyes, the shadows making them almost black. She cocked her head to the side.

"You should stop while you can." Her voice was soft, too soft. It echoed through the alleyway as though she had yelled, yet it never rose above a whisper. The man laughed as he sliced a button off of her grey Oxford shirt.

"You're hardly in any position to be making demands, love."

"I'm not your love." She flashed a feral smile as both men holding her fell to the ground, their lifeless eyes glassy in the dim light of the street lamps. The man swallowed harshly. She didn't move, though she felt like running as far and as fast as her legs would carry her. She spared a glance to the men at her feet. They could only blame themselves for their deaths. She looked at the man with the knife.

"W-what the hell did you do to them?" He yelled, backing away from her, holding the knife out as though it could really offer him some form of protection from the woman in front of him.

"I killed them." Her voice was still much too soft, and the lighter side of her hated the way it sounded. It made her sound cold and harsh. She took as step towards him, her heels clicking against the pavement. Faster than he could have thought possible, she lunged at him, knocking the knife from his hand and sending it skidding into a gutter. Her long, thin fingers locked around his neck as she forced him against the wall on the opposite side of the alley. "I told you to stop, but you didn't listen. You laughed." She trailed off, talking more to herself than to him. "Why do they always laugh?"

He clawed at her fingers, but she paid it no mind. She was focused, the world around her gone. The only thing that mattered was survival, and she'd be damned if she let some drunken street-thug threaten hers. Her midnight eyes locked with his dull hazel orbs and she 's when she heard it, over the pulsing of her heart and the howl of the wind in her ears.

The sound of tires on wet pavement. She glanced up, her hand never loosening its iron grip on the man's throat. A van had stopped at the end of the street, blocking the alleyway off from the rest of the world. She looked back at him, reaching out and brushing against his soul. She wanted to watch the light leave his eyes, wanted to watch as he crumpled to the ground like a discarded ragdoll. She wanted to, but she wouldn't. She closed her eyes, her hands falling to her sides.

"Go."

The man was petrified. She was pretty sure he had soiled himself at some point, but it was irrelevant.

"GO!"

He scrambled off down the alley, tripping over his own feet and clipping his shoulder on the edge of a fence. She stood still for a moment, catching her breath and calming her heart rate. Without thinking, she turned and bolted towards the opposite end of the alleyway. She rounded the corner only to be met with a group of severe-looking men and women, dressed in matching black uniforms with matching black guns. She skidded to a halt before doubling back. If she could just get across the street, she could make it home. More uniforms and more guns. She was surrounded. She had nowhere else to run.

Defeated, she held up her hands and leant against the side of a building. Her breath was ragged and her throat felt tight. Despite her best efforts, she had lost control of herself. She had killed two people and would have killed a third. What would they do to her? Lock her up? Cart her off to be tested? She sank to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest as she fought to take in a breath. What about her parents? What about her job? Tears blurred her vision as her mind ran through every possible scenario it could conjure. None of them were good.

A warm hand fell on her shoulder, causing her to jump and emit a small squeaking sound. She looked up at the man, her ice blue eyes wide.

"You should calm down, before you hyperventilate." His tone was kind, but neutral. Everything about the man screamed of calm and professionalism. She nodded. He wasn't going to hurt her. She hoped he wasn't, at least.

"Better?"

She nodded again, sandy blonde bangs falling over her eyes. He offered a hand and helped her to her feet.

"You have nothing to fear, Miss Aberdeen. We're not here to hurt you. We're here to help you."

"Help me? H-how do you know my name? Who are you?" She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to physically hold herself together.

"I'm Agent Coulson. I represent the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. You can call us S.H.I.E.L.D." His words made no sense to her. He was American. What was an American agency doing, armed, in the back streets of Brixton?

"You didn't answer my question. How do you know who I am?"

He smiled, looking around the alleyway before meeting her eyes again. "We know everything about you, Miss."

"Why? What's so special about me?"

He glanced at the bodies of the men she had killed without even lifting a hand. "Something tells me you already know the answer to that question, ma'am."

She looked down, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. So, they knew about her abilities. That frightened her more than the fact that they knew her name. She blinked back her tears again and tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Well, for starters, we're going to get you cleaned up and calmed down. Then we'll figure out where to go from there." He said over his shoulder as he climbed into the back of the black van. He looked at her, waiting for her to make her move. If she ran, they would shoot her, or Taser her. Either way, it wasn't preferable. She quickly walked towards him, taking his offered hand and pulling herself in behind him. She took the only empty seat, directly to his left.

She jumped again as the doors were slammed shut and the engine was started. She didn't know what to think. Her mind refused to focus on any one aspect of what had happened in the past twenty minutes making it hard to make sense of any of it. Five minutes into the drive she looked up.

"You still didn't answer my question, Agent Coulson." She twirled a strand of her long sandy hair between her fingers. It was a nervous habit that had stuck with her since childhood. "How do you know who I am? What I can do?"

He was silent for a moment. It seemed as though he was trying to find exactly the right words to say whatever he needed to say. He looked at her, a guilty look in his eyes and sad smile on his lips.

"Honestly…"He paused. It looked as though it caused him pain to talk about it. "We know because we made you, Fynleigh. S.H.I.E.L.D. _created_ you. We just didn't know you would turn out so…perfectly."

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

**Author's Notes**

** First off, I want to thank you all for reading.** **This is my first Marvel work. I hope you all have enjoyed it thus far. I am hoping to update once a week (sometimes twice a week, depending on the length of the chapters). I do have a few chapters ready for posting, but I'm going to hold to my once-a-week plan for the moment, just to give myself some wiggle room to write and edit. I do work full-time, and attend university full-time, so if I'm a little late on updating once in a while, I apologize in advance. Life gets in the way of things from time to time and I ask that you all be understanding and bear with me.**

** Also, I would like to thank everyone that has taken the time to read over everything before I post it. Jesse, Carrie, and Ryan: thank you all so much. I love you all (albeit in VERY different ways).**

** For anyone that may be wondering, her name is pronounced as Fin-lee. It is of Gaelic origin and it means 'Fair-haired Warrior.' Her middle name (which hasn't been used yet) is Mara. It is of Hebrew origin and means 'bitter,' though the Swedish meaning of 'nightmare' and the Sanskrit meaning of 'death' could be equally as applicable in regards to their relation to who/what she is.**

**Required Disclaimer**

** I own nothing save for the plot and Fynleigh. Everything you recognize belongs to Marvel and the amazing Stan Lee. I'm making no money off of this, as nice as that would be.**

** As always, please review and let me know what you think. All reviews are welcome, good and bad. You've already taken a few minutes to read the chapter, please take just a few more and leave a bit of feedback. I won't continue with it if I don't feel that anyone I enjoying it. Thank you. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The drive from Brixton to the city of London was a blur to her. She felt the stops and starts, the bumps in the pavement, but she couldn't have guessed how long they had been driving, or how far they had gone. She kept replaying Agent Coulson's words in her mind, trying to make sense of them. They had created her. What did that mean, and how was she 'perfect'? She was a freak. Hell, she could kill them all without even trying.

"I know what you're thinking. Don't."

How could he be so calm, knowing what she could do? How often had he been in this situation for it to be so easy for him? She shook her head.

"Sorry. You have to understand, I've been living with this…this _gift _my whole life_._ " She spat the word as though it was something bitter and vile that stuck to her tongue, "At least, what I can remember of it. Things get blurrier the further back I try to go."

"Yeah, sorry about that. S.H.I.E.L.D. likes to keep its secrets, well, secret."

She laughed. It was a short, harsh sound that didn't suit her. "My point is, I know what I can do, sir. I also know just how little remorse I'll feel once everything is said and done." She had meant for her words to sound factual, but they came out cold and cruel. She sighed. She looked ahead of her, but she wasn't seeing the man that sat there. Her gaze was distant. "I could have killed him. It would have been so easy to do. I could feel his soul, dark and putrid and horrible. I was so close. He wouldn't have been the first, and I doubt he would have been the last."

She looked at Coulson. "I _wanted_ to kill him. I _wanted_ to end his meager existence, and the worst part of it all, Agent Coulson, is that I would have been very happy to have done so. There would have been no guilt, no questions of morality or ethics." Her eyes flashed midnight blue for a moment, then faded back to their normal icy shade. Fear and self-loathing were evident in her voice.

"What does that make me? Am I a monster? Am I…evil?" She asked. "How does any of this make me perfect?"

"It makes you…different, special. You have a unique skill set, Miss Aberdeen. That's why I'm here. My orders are to take you to headquarters, brief you, and then transport you to a secure location where you will meet with Director Fury."

"Brief me?"

He handed her a black folder with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on the front. She opened it up, finding her name and personal information attached to the inside of the front cover along with a picture. It looked as though it had been taken recently and without her knowledge. She thumbed through the rest of the papers.

"Wow. You guys must have been keeping a pretty close eye on me. So, why wait until now to take me in? Why not do it the first time I killed someone?" She handed the folder back to him.

"Our orders were for surveillance only. Until this evening, contact was forbidden."

She nodded, not really understanding anything that was being said.

-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-

An hour had passed since her arrival at the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. She had been allowed to shower, thankfully. She hadn't realized how much of a mess she was until she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a window. Coulson had handed her over to a junior agent that had never given her name and promptly left them alone. She had followed the young woman (no older than herself as far as Fynleigh could tell) until she was thoroughly lost. The agent had given her a change of clothes in roughly the right size and shown her to a locker room shower.

The moment she stepped into the shower, the reality of all that had happened came crashing down on her. She could still feel grimy hands on her arms and face, cold, unfeeling steel against her throat. She spent most of her time just standing there, letting the water wash away her silent tears. She hated crying, hated how weak it made her feel, but the full weight of what had happened, and even worse, what could have happened to her had she been any normal woman, was more than she could handle. There were very few occasions she had to be thankful for the curse she bore.

She had dressed in silence before leaving the locker room, finding the agent waiting patiently outside the door. The clothes were loose, but comfortable, much more her style than the business casual attire she had been wearing when they found her. The BDU pants were baggy in the legs, but snug against her hips. They were slightly too long, but it was a problem that was easily fixed when she put on the well-worn general issue combat boots she had been given. A loosely –fitted black shirt imprinted with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo completed her borrowed outfit, and her messenger bag was casually tossed across her shoulder. She felt better now that she had scrubbed herself raw and had discarded her dirty, tattered clothes. She supposed she should feel some semblance of normality, but she didn't. No one in her position ever could. What was normal, anyways? She had heard once that normal was over-rated. She wanted very much to believe that were true.

The agent led her through another maze of hallways and into another room. The room was rather large and sparsely decorated with one wall completely taken up by floor-to-ceiling windows. The view beyond was stunning. All of London lay before her, the sun setting behind the skyline and casting an orange-pink glow over the city. A neatly organized desk sat in the middle of the office, with stacks of papers in bins, marked clearly as having been done, or needing to be done. A plain black laptop with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on the front sat in the center, and along one side were a few various knick-knacks. A plush, worn leather office chair sat behind the desk. There was a single chair in front, but Fynleigh got the impression that most people that came through this room were not invited to sit down.

Her gaze drifted to the far side of the room, where bookcases lined the wall. Most were filled with books on various agencies, policies, laws, and such. All of which were things that held little interest to her. She was much more interested in the objects held within one case. Most of them looked vintage, but very well cared for. What drew her attention most was a framed black-and-white photo and a set of cards. There was a bit of damage to both, but their condition was surprising considering their age. She leaned closer to the glass, trying to get a better look at the photo. Something about it was off to her, like she should know the people in it. She knew that was crazy. She had never seen them before in her life.

"It's an original print."

She jumped slightly at the sound of Agent Coulson's voice. She had been so consumed with her own thoughts that she had failed to notice him enter the room, and from the looks of things he had been there a while. He had already taken a seat behind the desk, her folder in front of him and the laptop open. She smiled sheepishly, trying to will away the heat she felt in her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snoop." She said, her arms crossing over her chest and her eyes looking anywhere but at him. She wasn't sure if it was a mutant ability or not, but he made her feel like a wayward child in need of a good chastising, making her feel a strong need to explain her actions. It made her slightly uncomfortable. "I was just sort of…drawn to it. You have an amazing collection of vintage items. It's all in such wonderful shape. I'm slightly jealous."

"Thank you." He offered a small, knowing smile as he motioned towards the seat on the opposite side of the desk. "If you would, please take a seat and we can get started. The sooner you're briefed and up to speed, the sooner we can meet with Director Fury. He's not the type of man that enjoys being kept waiting. "

She nodded and sat down. It took almost two more hours for them to get through everything. He explained to her what S.H.I.E.L.D. was, what they did, what they stood for. He informed her of her place in the agencies list of 'gifted' people. She laughed at that. If she was on it, it must have been a list of those that agency deemed a threat. Towards the end he began telling her information specific to her file.

"You were born at the S.H.I.E.L.D. research hospital in Bethesda, Maryland. Your mother was an agent, and a damn good one, too. She volunteered for the program, thinking it was her only chance to have any children at all. As I'm sure you can imagine our careers here aren't exactly conducive to settling down and raising a family. The researchers had isolated DNA from the original test of the super-soldier project from the 40's. When they managed to replicate a viable specimen, they used it to fertilize an egg from your mother, at which point they transferred the embryo back into her. Nine months later, you were born. Sadly, your mother died."

"Did I…did I kill her?" she choked out, afraid to know the answer.

"It's uncertain why she died. There were several complications during the final months of her pregnancy and by the eighth month she was relegated to bed rest. They kept her at the facility from then on, until you were born. It is possible that your abilities may have partially been to blame, but not entirely. She had been very sick shortly after the program started. It was a month or so after the pregnancy was confirmed that she was diagnosed with cancer, a malignant brain tumor. She refused to undergo therapy for fear that it would harm you. In the end, she only had a few weeks left anyways."

She nodded as she tried to process the information she had been given. Her whole life she had believed that her birth parents hadn't wanted her. She thought that they had tossed her aside because they knew what she was, what she was capable of doing. Now she knew the truth and that hurt almost as much. Her mother had sacrificed her own health, her own life, for the sake of a child she knew she would probably never meet. She let out a shuddering breath.

"What about my father? I know enough about biology to know that a human egg doesn't fertilize itself. Is he still alive? Who was he? What does he do?" Fynleigh tried to contain her curiosity, but it was just too much. The idea that she may get to meet her biological father, see who he was, who she was, it was just too much for her.

"I'm not much of a scientist, Miss Aberdeen, so forgive me if my explanation seems to be lacking. As well as I can understand from the reports, they had to strip the DNA from the existing specimen in order to graft the DNA containing the super-soldier serum into it. It's not noted who the original donor was, but for all intents and purposes, your biological father is Steven Grant Rogers."

-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-

**Author's Notes**

**I want to thank everyone that read the first chapter. It is very much appreciated. I'm a bit sad that no one reviewed though. **

**I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I got a bit stuck on it at first, but I think it turned out alright in the end. Maybe I'm just being biased though. I'll let you guys decide if it was good or not.**

**Please leave a review as they will help me decide where I want to go with this story, and whether or not to continue writing it at all.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Shock; that was the only thing she could feel. Her father, for all purposes, was Captain Bloody America. She stared at Coulson, not believing the words he had spoken. She stood up, shaking her head as she paced. She supposed it made sense. He _was_ the only successful test subject from the original super-solider program. She wasn't sure she wanted to know how they had gotten his DNA, considering that until two years ago he had been lost, assumed dead, and buried in ice at the North Pole.

Her gaze fell on the photo once more and she realized why she felt that she had seen one of the faces before. It was almost exactly the same as the face she saw every morning when she looked in the mirror. They had the same eyes, the same nose, and the same cheek bones. There were a few differences; her face was fuller, more feminine, her jaw wasn't as sharp, and her chin was more rounded. Her lips were fuller, the bottom slightly more so, and more pronounced and her hair was rather curly. Beyond that, the two were much the same. If they were standing side by side, it would have been easy to see that they were closely related. She sighed, her fingertips ghosting over the glass case.

"You're sure about that? That he's my…father?" She knew what the response would be, but she had to hear it from someone else.

"Yes. We can have a paternity test run if you want, but it's pretty obvious what the results would be." He smiled as he stood and buttoned his suit jacket.

"N-no, it won't be necessary. Thank you." She turned away from the case. "Does he know about me?"

"No. The Board thought it best that he not be made aware of you or the experiment that created you. They felt he should focus his full attention on other priorities, and knowing he had a daughter would only deter from that. Off the record, I can't say I have ever agreed with their decision on the matter."

"I see." She kept her voice neutral, but inside she was fuming. What made them think that they had the right to decide such things? She was going to find out and come hell or high water, she was going to make sure that she got to know her father. They both deserved that much.

"I think I've covered everything from here. We should leave. I have to deliver you to Director Fury." He motioned for her to walk out the door ahead of him. He had her folder in one hand as he followed her out and locked the door. He presented it to her as they began down the hall towards the elevators. "This is yours. You should have it."

"Thank you, Agent Coulson." She smiled and took the file as he pressed the UP button to call the lift. She held it close to her, almost afraid that someone would try to take it away. Once the doors opened, she stepped inside and leaned against the back wall. "May I ask you a question?"

"Other than the one you just asked?" He joked, smiling. She chuckled softly. The smile suited him well. "You may."

"You are American, yes?"

"Yes."

"Do you live in London, now? Working for this branch of S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Only temporarily; I'm being reassigned next week. I'm only here until they finish working on setting up my plane, and get my team together. I've been out on medical leave for several months and they wanted to ease me back into things."

"Oh. Are you…alright?"

"I'm fine. I had a nice, relaxing rehabilitation in Tahiti. Have you ever been to Tahiti?" There was something strange in the way he had spoken, almost as though he didn't even realize he was saying it.

"No."

"You should go. It's a magical place."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The doors opened onto the roof of the building. Instead of a helicopter on the helipad, there was a small plane. She looked at Coulson, silently asking what she was afraid to say aloud.

"We're meeting Director Fury at another base. A regular helicopter would never make it. The Quinjet it faster and it can reach higher altitudes."

She nodded as they stepped in to the cargo area of the small jet and took their seats. The rear door closed and the pilot turned to look at them. He acknowledged Coulson with a polite 'Sir' and nodded in Fynleigh's direction.

"HUB, this is Agent Medinza, requesting permission to take off." The pilot spoke into his headset. What she assumed was an affirmative response sounded, though she couldn't make it out. They rose slowly into the air, gaining several hundred feet in altitude before taking off. Fynleigh was forced back into her seat from the pressure of the swift acceleration. Once the plane leveled out, she took a deep breath.

They flew out over the Atlantic before climbing yet again to a higher altitude. Shortly after leveling off, she felt the jet touchdown on something solid. She looked towards the front of the plane, but the widows were too dark from her angle to make out anything. Soft light filled the cabin as the rear door was let down and the sight before her was astounding. As her eyes adjusted to the multitude of florescent lights that chased away the darkness she saw what looked to be an aircraft carrier, with several fighter jets, and a few more of the small Quinjets tethered to the deck. An observation tower loomed over head and a sea of black stretched out around them on all sides.

"Are we…?"

"Yes." He looked incredibly giddy, like a child at the holidays. "We're currently at a cruising altitude of 45,000 feet."

"You're serious? How…how are we breathing? How are we even standing?"

"It's an amazing thing, technology. We can do almost anything these days. The carrier is surrounded by a field of sorts. It stabilizes pressure and protects from the extreme wind that would otherwise blow everything from people to planes off the deck." He said as he walked past her.

She stared after him as he made his way across the flight deck. Shaking her head in disbelief, she followed after him. They were met at the main bulkhead by a stern looking man with dark skin and a black patch over his left eye. His black trench coat flapped in the breeze, revealing both of his side arms and a knife that looked as innocent as it was lethal. He stood, half in the harsh florescent light, and half in pitch black shadow.

"Coulson."

"Director."

"You're late."

"It took longer than expected to bring Miss Aberdeen up to speed."

"I see. This her?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now get your ass back on the ground. You know you shouldn't have come up here. I have spent too much damn time and energy on keeping you dead. I don't need any unnecessary questions."

"Yes, sir."

Coulson turned on his heel, giving her a look of encouragement mixed with something else, and a pat on the shoulder before making his way back to the Quinjet. She wasn't sure if it had been sympathy or humor that sparkled in his eyes. Either way, she didn't think it was a good thing. She situated her messenger bag strap across her shoulder and held her file close to her chest. She looked expectantly at the man before her.

"Well? Are we going to go inside, or would you rather we do this here?" Her voice was low, and laced with anger as darkness bled into her irises.

"Excuse me?" He seemed offended.

"Agent Coulson has told me everything. He told me about my past, my 'creation,' the fact that my father has no idea that I even exist. There's an awful lot we need to talk about, Director. I deserve some answers, _proper_ answers, and you are damn well going to give them to me."

"Is that so?" Fury asked incredulously.

"Yes."

He smirked at her, a short scoff coming from his lips as he turned around and headed inside. She followed close behind him, afraid that if too much space came between them, she would become hopelessly lost. They made their way to a lift. Joined by several others in the small space, they made their way to the top floor of the tower. Instead of exiting straight into the Observation and Control Room, they turned left and headed down a narrow hallway. There were several windows along the way, but it was too dark outside to see much, so Fynleigh kept her eyes on Fury, making certain she didn't lose track of him.

Eventually he came to a stop in front of a thick glass door with a keypad lock. He punched in a series of numbers and the door hissed open, sliding back into the wall. He motioned her past him and followed her in, locking the door back as he went. He slowly made his way towards his desk, taking a seat behind it. He stared at her for a moment, as though he were mentally evaluating her. She had to fight the urge to fidget. After what felt like an eternity he leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows up on the desk, his fingers locked in front of his face and his pointer fingers pressed lightly against his lips.

"Take a seat."

Everything he said was oozing with authority and demand. It irked her severely. She sat in one of two chairs that stood before his desk, placing her bag and file in the other gingerly. She crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair, her eyes never leaving his. He was hoping to intimidate her, to scare her into backing down. She simply refused to do so. She could feel her pulse thrumming in her ears. She blamed it on the altitude rather than the fact that, despite her outwardly stoic behavior, she felt like a school girl having been sent to the headmaster's office.

"If you're quite done assessing me, sir, I'd like to get this over with. I'm rather tired, I've had an awfully taxing day, and being in your company makes me…anxious." Her voice was curt and a bit sour.

"I make you anxious? Good."

"No. It's not good. Bad things happen when I get anxious. People have died because they made me anxious. People have died for a lot less, actually."

"You can cut the tough girl act, kid. I know what you're capable of, and I know what your limits are."

"Oh? How would you know that?"

"Because…it's my job to know."

"I see. Very well." She took a deep breath before leaning forward. "Look, I'm going to be honest with you. I don't like you. I don't know you. I don't care to. I'm not looking for half-truths and blatant lies. If you can't give me the information I'm after, I'll go to someone who can. I have no problem with doing whatever it takes to get what I want. Are we clear?"

"I'll tell you what you want to know, kid. There's no need to get all huffy and rude. I don't like rude, and it won't get you anywhere with me. Now calm your ass down, otherwise I'm gonna have to have you sedated. Are _we_ clear?"

Fynleigh nodded slightly, taking a few deep breaths. Her irises slowly faded back to their usual shade of icy blue.

"Good. Now, what would you like to know?"

"Everything."

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

**Author's Notes**

**Thank you to all that have read thus far. I'm really just writing this as I go. I have no definite plan of what will happen or when. If anyone has any ideas of things they would like to see, feel free to mention it in the reviews section. I'll take everything into consideration and go with what works best for the story. **

**Also, I know that the pairing for the story is OC/Loki, but I'm not sure if I want to keep it that way or not. I've thought of pairing Fynleigh with Loki, Bruce/Hulk, Coulson, or Bucky. Please let me know you thoughts on this as it will also help me decide where to go with this story. Thanks everyone!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Fynleigh sighed. She had been trying, rather unsuccessfully, to sleep. It was approaching dawn and she had been awake for almost 24 hours. Thinking of the events of the day before made her all the more restless, and she simply could not get her mind to quiet. She tossed back the covers on the small bed and threw her legs over the side. She sat there for a few moments, staring blankly at the utilitarian metal desk and chair against the utilitarian metal wall across from her. Everything on the carrier was bland and dull; she just wanted to go home and crawl into her own bed so she could hide from everything that had happened. Part of her wanted all of it to be some twisted dream that she would wake up from at any moment. Her rational side knew it wasn't.

She let out a small growl of frustration as she shook her head. She wasn't getting any sleep and she would just have to accept it. She had to at least get out of this room. It was beginning to make her feel trapped and very claustrophobic. She needed air. She stood, slipping her feet into her boots and making her way to the door. Checking in both directions to make sure no one was around she stepped out into the hallway. Now all she had to do was remember how to get to the flight deck.

Fury had told her that under no circumstances was she to leave her room until someone came to get her. Something about top secret work and how she wasn't authorized and didn't have clearance. She huffed and shoved it to the back of her mind. She really wasn't in the mood to follow orders, especially from people that had lied to her about, well about everything. Honestly, how were they expecting her to react? How would anyone else have reacted to being pulled off the street by some secret international agency and then told that everything they thought they knew about themselves and their past was a lie? How would they react if they were told that they were the result of some experiment? Fynleigh wasn't even sure how she felt about all of it, and she didn't really have it in her to give a damn about how anyone else expected her to feel or react.

Fynleigh was so caught up in her own world that she had failed to pay any attention to where she was going. One moment she was walking, oblivious to her surroundings, with her head down and her thumb nail between her teeth. The next, she was sprawled across the floor, feeling more disoriented that she already had been. She brushed her hair from her face as she pushed herself into a sitting position. She was quite ready to tell off whatever wall had had the nerve to jump out in front of her, until she saw that it wasn't a wall she had hit. Her temper quickly deflated as the other person stood up and brushed off his clothes.

She could only stare as he turned his attention to her. He held out a hand to help her up, offering what she was sure was a very sincere apology. She didn't hear a word of it. She simply sat there, staring at him. She looked him over, taking in every detail. He was tall, much taller than she has expected. His eyes were bright and kind, but they hid something dark in their depths. His blond hair was neatly combed in an old fashioned style. He wore dark blue jogging pants, running shoes and a silver shirt.

"Miss?" He sounded concerned.

"Huh?" She blinked and looked up into his eyes.

"Are you alright? I tried to stop, but you came out of nowhere." He knelt down in front of her, looking her over for any injuries.

"I-I'm fine." She smiled slightly. It was him. Her father was there, right in front of her. She didn't know whether to run away and hide or to hug him. She tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat.

"Are you sure you're alright, Miss? You seem a little confused. You might have a concussion. We should get you to the med bay and have you checked out." He stood up and held his hand out to her again. She tentatively reached out and took it. He pulled her to her feet with ease as though she didn't weigh as much as a feather.

"No! I'm fine, really, I just…you're…I mean…" She looked at her feet, suddenly very interested in her boot laces. She felt tears burn in her eyes and she bit her bottom lip.

"You must be one of the new recruits. Fresh from the academy, I'm assuming." He laughed lightly. "Trust me; they always make me sound a lot better than I am. I'm not nearly as interesting as they tell you."

"I'm not from the academy. I'm not even part of S.H.I.E.L.D. You could say I'm just a person of interest to the agency." The sound of his laugh made her feel odd, almost warm, as though it was something she had always known. It made her sad to think that she had been missing it all of her life. She took a deep breath, blinking back her tears and looked up at him. 'Screw Fury, and to hell with the Board,' she thought. He deserved to know just as much as she did. Determination filled her and she felt the familiar prickle behind her eyes that indicated a shift in color, a shift to her other half.

"D-do you have a few moments? I'd like to have a chat with you."

"Um…okay? Did your eyes just change colors? " He looked perplexed but followed her as she made her way back down the hall. She led him to the room she had been given, closing the door and locking it behind them for good measure.

"Yes, they did, but that's not really important at the moment. I need to tell you something, and you might not believe me. It sounds crazy and ridiculous, but I promise you that every word of it is true." She said as she turned around to face him. He was standing in the middle of the room, his stance rigid and his face serious.

He nodded. "I learned long ago that, no matter how strange something may sound, it doesn't mean that it isn't true."

She sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to her. "You're going to want to sit down. It's a long story and a lot of information. I've been told not to approach you, not to speak to you, not even to think about all of this, but that's a hell of a lot harder to do than I care to admit. Fury is going to be pissed when he finds out, and I'm running the risk of some nasty punishment or another, I'm sure. I honestly don't care. You have as much right to know the truth as I do." He sat down beside her, the mattress sinking under his weight. She turned to face him and pulled her legs up beneath her. She looked him in the eyes, feeling somewhat nervous and a bit apprehensive.

"First off, my name is Fynleigh Mara Aberdeen. I'm your daughter." She launched into the story of how agents had picked her up in the alleyway in Brixton and taken her to the HUB. She told him everything she had been told, leaving out the fact that it had been Coulson who told her. She got the feeling that telling him that would not go over well with anyone and it wouldn't be a forgivable offense. She stood and crossed over to the desk, pulling her file from her messenger bag and handing it to him.

"This is everything S.H.I.E.L.D. has on me. My birth records, DNA tests, early assessments, psych profile…hell, they even have my school records. Everything you might care to know about me is in that file."

He thumbed through the file, reading over every page. He seemed to be taking it much better than she had ever expected, though perhaps, like herself he simply wished to direct his anger over it all at the appropriate people. He pulled off a picture from the back and held it up. Fynleigh hadn't seen it; she hadn't gone that far back. She knew that whatever information was held within those last few pages was big. They were from the experiment, from her earliest years of life. She had been five when they had given her to the Aberdeen's, when they had decided that she was a failed experiment. 'If only they had known what I could really do,' she thought. He smiled and handed her the picture. She knew she was looking at herself, but it felt foreign; the chubby, splotchy new born in the picture was grinning and reaching for something behind the camera. In all of the pictures that she had from her childhood, she had never smiled, had never looked anything more than solemn and timid. She gave it back to him.

"You can keep it. If you want to, that is. I wouldn't really blame you if you didn't. You don't really know me, and I'm sure that all of this has been a shock to you. It was for me. I only just found out about you a few hours ago, now you're here and I've told you everything, and-" She rambled, blushing slightly. She never expected to have two strong arms pulling her into a tight embrace. He held her close to him, protectively. She had a sudden feeling of being home and being safe. She could feel his muscles tense, could sense his rising temper. She heard the lock release and the door open. She heard the footsteps as someone entered the room. All the while he held her.

The tension in the air was almost tangible and the silence was deafening. She pulled away from him to look behind her. Fury stood in the door way, Maria Hill and another agent stood behind him. His expression was blank, a mask to hide every emotion he was feeling at the moment. She could see it all in his eye; his anger, his frustration, his resignation and acceptance. He had anticipated this, though she doubted he had expected it to happen so soon.

"You…"Steve stood up, moving towards Fury. "You knew about this! You knew about her!"

"You need to calm down, Cap." Fury's voice was low.

"Calm down? I don't really understand how or why, but I have a daughter! You knew and you never told me! Did you ever plan on telling me?!"

Fynleigh tried to back away from them, but she could only go so far. Steve Rogers was a large man, intimidating in an unexpected way and the knowledge that he could kill a person with one well-placed punch probably helped with that. An angry Steve Rogers was terrifying as hell. She could feel the air in the room crackle. It wasn't something most would sense, but it wasn't lost to her.

"Hill, get the girl out of here." Maria stepped forward only to be met with a mountain of flesh and rage.

"Don't. You. Dare." His voice was rough and powerful. It would have sent a lesser agent running. To her credit Hill simply took a step back, her hands up, trying to show that she meant no harm.

"Mr. Rogers," Fury started," I respect you, you know that. However, I'm going to have to ask you to get the hell out!" Before anyone had the chance to think Fury was on the floor, his hand against his jaw and blood trickling from his now-busted bottom lip.

"How much more are you willing to lie to me about? How much more does this agency expect me to take? I have given EVERYTHING to S.H.I.E.L.D. and this is what I get in return? Lies, secrets, genetic experimentation! How far are you people willing to go? She's a child, MY child. You took away her childhood, you put her though who-knows how many tortuous tests and then, when you deem she isn't good enough, you toss her aside like she doesn't matter? What the hell is wrong with you people to make you think you even have the right?"

"Stop" Her voice was weak, barely above a whisper. She had tucked herself into the back corner of the bed, where it pressed against the corner of two walls. Her face was pressed into her knees and her hands were grasping tightly at her hair. Her entire body was shaking and she was fighting the cold inside her. She hated tension, hated yelling. It always made her lose control. She whispered the word again and again, but she couldn't seem to find her voice. "Please…" She let out a gasping sob, unable to catch her breath. Her eyes burned as the color bled and the icy chill seeped inside her. Her last coherent thought was full of fear and blinding pain as an earsplitting wail of agony ripped from her throat. Then, darkness.

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

**Author's Note**

**Thank you, Beth, for being my first reviewer! I'll give you something awesome, like a cookie or a hug or something, next time I see you. **

**For those that have followed and/or fave'd this story, thank you. I might not be getting any reviews from you, but just knowing that you liked it enough to follow/fave it is enough to keep me going. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Voices. Soft, distant voices brushed against her ears. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but they seemed to be arguing. Arguing in whispers…that was unusual. She tried to take a deep breath, but there was a heavy weight on her chest, allowing just enough air into her lungs to keep her alive. Her eyes were sewn shut and incredibly heavy. The voices faded as she sank back into the welcoming darkness around her.

-X-

He was there again, talking to her, whispering soft, sweet words of strength in a tone filled with concern. She wondered if he ever left. She sometimes wondered who 'he' was, the answer on the tip of her tongue, but then she would let it go and forget about it. It didn't matter, not really. He was there, and that was nice of him. Perhaps he knew her. She hoped so; she was starting to wonder who she was and why she was trapped in such never-ending blackness.

-X-

Her darkness was getting crowded with so many voices. It was hard to know if they were real, or if maybe she was going crazy. It wasn't such an unexpected thing, really. She had been going crazy, albeit very slowly, for most of her life. When she was little, she would play with the shadows, and they would follow her. She would sing sweet songs with the misty people that no one else could see. Still, she wished the voices would just shut up already. Her head was starting to ache with all the commotion.

-X-

There was something in the darkness with her; something evil. It was stalking her, waiting for her to make a move, waiting for a chance to strike. She could feel its icy breath on her neck. Once in a while she thought she could see it, just out of the corner of her eye, but when she tried to turn around it was gone. At first she though it was a figment of her imagination, but no, it was real and it was always there, just out of sight…waiting.

-X-

Excruciating pain rips through her body. Every inch on her flesh is on fire and every bone is made of ice. Loud, jarring screams fill her ears. It takes her a moment to realize that she is the one screaming. Her darkness is no longer warm and inviting. It is a barren wasteland inhabited by the voices, the shadows and the misty people, and they no longer want her there. They are forcing her out, into the arms of the great beast that has stalked her periphery. She struggles, tries to fight, but she isn't strong enough. She lashed out at the entity, reaching for its soul, and finds nothing. 'Is this death? Am I dying? Am I dead?'

-X-

"Fynleigh?"

Who said that? She fought against the weight of her eyelids. Was it morning again? Had her mum come in to wake her up, send her off to her classes? Was any of it real? Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. A soft moan passed her lips as she managed to open her eyes. Her entire body ached dully. Her throat was sore and her vision was blurry. She lifted a hand to brush her hair from her face, but it was attached to something. She looked at it curiously. An I.V. was run from her right hand to a bag above her bed. How long had she been in bed? Where was she and why did she hurt so much? Her mind was full of questions, chasing each other about like angry dogs.

"Fynleigh?"

She looked up. Blue eyes greeted her. They were full of relief, concern and something else, something warm. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close to his chest as the I.V. and other instruments allowed.

"Thank God you're awake. I was starting to wonder if you would ever open your eyes again." His voice was a blanket around her, making her feel safe and warm. She suddenly realized just how cold she was and couldn't fight the shiver that ran through her. He pulled back, grabbing a blanket off the foot of the hospital bed and draping it over her shoulders. He smiled at her, about to say something else when someone knocked on the door.

A pale woman with dark red hair poked her head around the door. As soon as she saw them, her eyes lit up and the look of nervousness was replaced with a close-lipped smile. She pushed the door open the rest of the way, turning to talk to someone behind her. A moment later, the small room was filled with people Fynleigh had never met before. She could only guess that they were friends of Steve's. She tried to smile, but couldn't hide her discomfort. She wasn't good with new people or large crowds in small spaces, for that matter. A blush crept across her cheeks and looked down, suddenly very interested in the sheet the covered her.

The room filled with an awkward silence for a few moments, and then everyone started talking at once. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, wishing that they would all be quiet, but too shy to make mention of it. One of the men she hadn't met seemed to notice, however, and had no problems with asking everyone to 'kindly shut up.' He smiled at her, and while it seemed genuine, it was also sad. It was almost like he knew what she was feeling.

Steve, ever the gentleman, quickly made introductions. The red-head was Natasha, and Fynleigh gathered that there was something going on between the two of them. Beside her was a man with short, spiky brown hair and stormy eyes named Clint. Tony Stark stood slightly off to the side, talking on his phone, but waved and smiled when his name was mentioned. The man with the sad smile and dark, brooding eyes was Bruce. Lastly, a large, loud blond man was introduced as Thor, to which he smiled widely and held out a massive hand for her to shake.

"Everyone, this is Fynleigh. She's…" He paused, looking for the right words. Her eye caught his and she smiled.

"Technically speaking, I'm his daughter." She said softly.

Once more everyone was speaking at once, asking the same questions.

"How do you have a daughter?"

"Where did she come from?"

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Steve waited for them to calm down before telling them all that he knew. She had been born as part of an experiment using his DNA from the original tests, he had never known her mother, her mother was dead, her memory had been blocked somehow, and she had extremely unstable powers.

"All that really matters is that she's my daughter." He said, smiling at her. "I'm still pissed that S.H.I.E.L.D. did this, that they thought they could play God, that they took away her childhood and that I wasn't able to be a part of her life growing up. There are so many things about this whole thing that aren't right."

She reached out and took his hand. "You can still be a part of my life. We both deserve that much, right?"

He nodded, concern once again filling his bright blue eyes as she yawned. He ushered everyone out of the room, saying that he would keep them all updated if anything changed. He resumed his post by her bed in a rather uncomfortable looking chair.

"You should get some rest. Whatever happened, it took a lot out of you. You've been asleep for two days."

"About that…what happened? I remember you and Fury arguing, then nothing. My mind goes blank."

"You had some kind of an episode. The doctors have run all kinds of tests, looking for any clues, but they haven't found anything. You just started screaming; your eyes rolled back, your whole body seized up. You scared the hell out of us. We couldn't even get near you to make sure you were alright until you passed out. There was some sort of field around you. No one can seem to explain any of it." He gently squeezed her hand as thought to make sure she was still there.

She squeezed back against his hand. "I'm sorry."

"Why? None of this is your fault. You never asked to be put into this situation, so don't start blaming yourself, okay?"

"I'm sorry for putting you in this situation. I might not have asked for any of this, but I had no right to drag you into it, either. You have enough problems of your own to deal with."

"Like you said, I deserved to know. You were reckless is telling me without Fury's approval, and a reprimand will probably still happen, but I'm glad you did it."

"Reprimand? They're going to reprimand me? Not bloody likely. Let them try, though. It'll give me a chance to tell them all off at one time."

"Don't worry about that. Now, sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up."

"Promise?" She asked as she fought a yawn.

"I promise."

**-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-**

**Author's Note**

**I'm horrible for not updating this sooner. It gave me some trouble, and I haven't had much free time to work it all out in the past few weeks. It's here now though, and I promise to get the next one up much sooner. Also, I know it's fairly short compared to the other chapters. It was mainly done to provide a glimpse into her psyche, as fractured as it is.**

**Thank you for the favorites and the reviews. Hope you all enjoy this chapter. All feedback (good and bad) is welcome and much appreciated.**

**Again, Fynleigh is mine. The rest are not. I'm just playing with them.**


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